The Disappearance Of Lady Heysan

[Stare]

They went through a door, into the room that she had once been so familiar with - filled with a table, chairs and too many ropes and chains in neat coiled piles to bear. His hand at her shoulder she more eagerly let herself be led into a room beyond that, then one after in which had armchairs, a crackling fire and a low table already set with a waiting pot of tea …

She slumped her way over to a chair and gestured to it.

“Am I allowed to sit, sir?”

“I could make you stand for all the pain you have put me through, girl,” he curled his lip, then he graciously waved a hand. “But yes you may.”

Huffing, but waiting until his hand stopped his movement, Stare swung and dropped into the seat, her eyes on his. Curiosity and ferocity raged behind her eyelids. She snapped when she saw him remain in his position, standing there.

“Why are you leaving?” she asked abruptly.

He breathed in slowly as a strange weary look came over his eyes. Then he looked right at her.

“Before I answer that, get it into your head matter your arguments, Stare, you are staying here. This is the safest place for you, where those I trust can keep guard over you.”

“I can very well take care of myself,” she protested. “You sent me to the shore, to find out what was happening with the ships. I was fine, Nosdyn and I-”

“Stare,” he said firmly. “No.” She opened her beak again and he raised his brows, “No. There are no arguments here. I might be gone sometime and I will not risk you.”

She stood up then, out of the seat she had won, but defiant and bold, her hands twisted into fists. “I hate this place, Vitruvion. If you have to, fucking hole me up in the house, but not here. Not here. In this,” she waved her hand erratically to the walls. “Hell!”

“Oh so you would stay in the house if I told you to?” He folded his arms, brows raised. “Stay in your room when apparently it was so difficult when I first moved you there?”

“Yes!” Stare shouted back at him, taking a daring step towards him. “For days, weeks if you told me, but I'm begging you not here.”

Vitruvion went silent for a moment before his expression changed. His thin but perfectly formed lips twisted up into a resemblance of a pleased smile. His eyes glistened with a certain amount of pride as he took a step towards her and laid a hand on her head, running his fingers down until they cupped her jaw. Standing beneath his awesome prowess and vigour Stare felt her breath catch in her chest, frozen to that spot in that odd and single moment.

“My dear, you are everything I have hoped for. I am proud of you,” he sighed. “But - here is safer than anywhere else. You are the most valuable thing I have, and I will not lose you.”

Her eyes dropped down, and she let out a small grumble. “You speak of me like a possession.”

He let his hand fall, shrugging uselessly. “You yourself have said that you are 'mine’. It's suitable language, and will do for now. However, the matter still is not altered that I do not know how long I will be gone and I cannot take you with me where I am going, and here there are guards for your safety as well as attention. Thus-”

“What has happened, Vitruvion?” she asked quietly, “Why do you not know how long you are gone for?”

[Stare]

“Miss? Miss!”

There was a firm shake at her shoulder. A hand that was strangely small but strong wrapping over the muscle and bone there, and rocking it haphazardly.

Her eyes jolted open. Suddenly she was thrown into the embrace of the conscious, where dreams could no longer protect her but where nightmares could not long claw at her with their vicious thoughts. Staring out she found herself face to face with a young man desperately looking into her eyes and bending over her with an expression of panic. He straightened as he saw her coming to, pulling his hands before him as he bowed at the waist.

“Miss.”

Looking around her she could see she had fallen asleep in Vitruvion's bed. After pacing around for hours, lonely and bored, Stare had ended up reading into the early hours. She had fallen asleep, exhausted, right on top of the quilt covers in which she had spent various nights, each very different from the last. Now she was being called to the world of the living, somewhere that was familiar yet so unwanted. Once, she blinked before realising precisely just where she was (the Hollow) and who was addressing her (one of Vitruvion's guards). And he was bowing at her, which was fairly new.

Quickly she sat up, her brow lifting, and her hands pulling down on her clothes to make sure she was covered. “Can I help you?” she asked in rushed tones.

The guard, who had fabulous ginger hair and beard and was possibly part dwarf, rose from his bow to nod. “Yes, miss. Lord Gravelle is waiting in the antechamber.”

Stare blinked, as she through about the grey-haired, grumpy, foul Brother of the Hollow who was as pleasant as a piece of wood stuck with nails.

“What the Ansaldo's balls is he doing here?” She asked, bemused, as she struggled from the bed covers. She headed towards the foot of the bed where a small leather trunk baring her own clothes from the mansion had been deposited by a lone guard yesterday.

“He … apparently had an appointment with Sir Elssmith, miss, and did not receive the news that he was going to be gone for a few days …”

Stare stopped, straightened as she unbuckled the lid of the furniture and threw it open. Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Well tell him that.”

“I have miss, but he - he … well. Insists that it needs to be discussed now.”

Running her eyes over the contents of the trunk she grabbed out the finest tunic that she could see at the top. She was about to start pulling off her current clothing when she realised that it was not exactly the proper thing to do, if she truly was now acting as Vitruvion’s steward. Gravelle did not like her, but if was insisting on speaking to someone it was going to apparently have to be here. Pausing for a moment, she looked at the guard. “What does he want?”

“He said something about … room allocation for a new guest he has?”

The kenku froze, severe dislike coming into her eyes. Her brow furrowed and she stared at the guard who swallowed slightly. “He has brought her with him, hasn’t he?” she said, flatly.

The man before her winced slightly before nodding. “Yes, and apparently she has been sleeping for a week in a living room so …”

[Stare]

Throwing her eyes to high heaven Stare let out a dissatisfied caw as she turned to glare around the room. She found a satisfactory partition which would do well to get changed behind and stomped over to it as she began to tug off her clothes. “Stupid idiot has to leave me with this stupid, ugh,” she muttered as she struggled out of her current crumpled tunic. Sweeping it over her head she flustered at her mental extent, where he was usually lying in wait.

Gravelle wants to talk about rooms for a ‘guest’ of his. He said he arranged this meeting with you?

There were a few agonising seconds of silence. She tried again. My lord, did you hear-

Stare, you can deal with a trifle like this, came an emotionally weary, tepid voice. Deal with all these matters as I would, not as you wish I would, not as you would, but as I would, which I trust you to do.

Easing into her finer tunic she proceeded to tie the belt around her waist as she breathed in slowly. Her eyes glanced down to the dull metal cuff on her left wrist that had been there for so long now that it was part of her identity. The immovable ornament connected her mind to Vitruvion’s, and had at first been a shackle that shouted her enslavement to her. Now it was more than that, a symbol of her close bond with him, and though sometimes she wished it could come off, each day that passed made her more used to it. More aware of the benefits. More aware of the power.

“Ahm … Miss Stare?”

She looked around the partition at the guard, her eyes briefly studying his young, blonde form. Slowly she breathed in, straightened and adjusted her clothes as she felt Vitruvion's presence feel satisfied, then drift away; once more to look for his sister.

“Yeah,” she replied, striding out. She paused to reach one more into the trunk and pull out her weapons - her dagger and clawed glove. Then, tying them both onto her belt she continued on her way towards the door.

“My name is Eirik, miss,” the young man said with a small smile. His hand lay on the hilt of a small set of daggers at his belt. “Lieutenant Zulon has placed me in charge of your safety.”

Stare glanced around at him, her brow raised. A brief glimpse into the aura sight told her he was middle-of-the-alignment neutral in morality, human, in his 30s and had a mostly honest heart but darkened by small white lies. Ones he likely told his family about his work to avoid the truth of this hellhole.

“I apologise but I do not recognise you much.”

He shook his head, a small smile on his face. “You probably wouldn't miss. Though when you first came to live here I was amongst those who …”

Tied her down, trussed her, made her into a package ready for Vitruvion's pleasure.

“Delightful,” she grunted. “And apparently now I'm your boss.”

His lips twisted into something of a smirk. “Apparently so.’

She let out a single note of laughter before slamming open the door.

[Stare]

The girl beside him was young. Too young. At least she looked thirteen but Stare hoped, for the sake of all that was good, that she was older. Small elf ears poked between golden tresses of hair, and her features were fine, pretty and delicate. Large, hazel eyes gazed out and stared as the kenku stepped into the room, and the slender neck beneath had a visible lump firmly form in it.

“You …” her tiny lips whispered.

Suddenly she was savagely yanked. Letting out a cry as the leather leash that attached to her hands were tugged. Her hands were badly bound in further leather cuffs, and she wore the skimpiest outfit that tried to make the best out of her immature breasts and hips.

Stare's attention snapped over the grey haired and foul man who she knew had something to do with the merchant bank of Beinost; likely one of its main representatives. He had a history of hating her and despising Vitruvion, often arguing why he should have more power within the city and the Hollow. Now he was here to complain that his apartment was too small, presumably because he had a new kidnapped soul whose parents were likely very fearful for her safety.

“They said you were here, in his place,” Lord Gravelle spat, “Why he could not have placed a more reasonable representative to deal with matters in his name is my question?”

“Miss Stare - Lady Stare is Sir Elssmith's chosen steward, Lord Gravelle.”

“Eirik, thank you,” Stare looked at the guard from a single beady eye. Yes she might have no say on the fact he was going to remain by her side, in every room she walked into for foreseeable future, but she also needed to be stern. He did not have to speak to her.

Fortunately, the young human seemed to accept the thanks and what it meant with grace. Inclining his head he slid a step back. Stare smiled slightly before she drew her attention back to the Brother again, trying to ignore the way her heart cried out for the girl and made her want to do nothing less than run over and embrace her.

She took a steady breath in, and set herself to proper decorum. As simple as talking to any manager of Vitruvion's stores. As simple as holding the Council of the Brotherhood.

“Eirik speaks the truth,” she said slowly, trying to avoid the pleaful gaze of the girl. “Lord Vitruvion has made me his steward, in fact that was around a full year ago now. I believe you received note. Yesterday he had to take an unexpected trip, and had little time to make arrangements - thus, the easier solution was to leave me in charge of his affairs, as I already partly manage around half of them.” She folded her arms. “So? What is your issue that I can hear?”

[Stare]

The young kidnapped woman let out a quiet gasp at the end of Stare's tirade. The kenku though, out of politeness and knowing that she was representing Vitruvion here - who … was, well, her god, - tried to ignore it, keeping her beak somewhat high.

“This is my newest guest,” Gravelle very briefly smiled, and shoved a hand behind him to grab the young girls breast. Stare folded her hands into tight fists to keep herself from screaming at him. “And I no longer have room for her in my measly apartment. Thus I need a larger one.”

For some years now, Stare knew, Gravelle had been intensely complaining about the location of his apartments. The Hollow was an ancient catacomb, hardly used but that existed in a wide spiralling tunnel that gently declined deeper into the earth. There were ten sections, sets of rooms that were called the 'apartments’ of the ten brothers, intersected via the centre by an offshoot room of a great octagonal shape that served as a council chamber. Below the apartments was where the guards Hell was, where guests who had once been in favour and now were no longer were sent and never heard of again. Because of the Hell, and because of the fact Vitruvion lived in the apartments to the closest to the surface of the world, and was the chairman and last living founder of the Hollow, there was a tradition that the higher up your apartment on the path, the more important you were.

Gravelle currently resided somewhere in the bottom section, beyond the council chamber. He thought, however, that he deserved to live beyond and closer to the light of day. Stare realised that this, claiming he had not the room to house this, his sixth 'guest’, was just a new plan to gain heights.

Stare's jaw tightened a little as she imagined what personal nightmare his girls must be living through. Indeed, she had lived under Vitruvion for four and a half painful months, but she could imagine Gravelle was worse.

“Lord Gravelle,” Stare said slowly, trying to think of what best to do. What Vitruvion expected her to do. Deal with all these matters as I would, he had said. Certainly, she knew ready, that meant not giving in to his desires and giving him a new apartment. But her eyes looked to the young woman for a moment and thought of what best she could do right now, for her.

“Lord Gravelle, you have made the choice to take in another … guest.” She forced the word out from her beak. “You know the capacity of your own apartments.”

The older man narrowed his eyes. “You dare talk to me in that way.”

“I speak as my Lord Elssmith has allowed me to,” she pulled her hands in front of her and clasped them with decorum. “As the authority of his steward allows me. Now, I can advise that there is no possibility of you moving apartment as there is-”

“Well these ones are hardly used to the best of their capacity,” Gravelle interrupted. “How about your lord move out? He only has two guests at the moment.”

Stare saw Eirik from the corner of her eye grip the hilt of his sword tighter. The kenku fought to keep her own calm, for all the truth that she wanted to kill this man right now and free the young woman who had only just passed into maturity. In fact she would gladly kill all the brothers and free every girl whilst Vitruvion was gone but his request for her to 'not start a revolution’ was foremost in her mind.

“That,” she testily replied, “is not even in discussion.”

[Stare]

“Why not?” Gravelle grinned at her slowly. “Why not? For he has made the decision to leave you in charge. In that case then you can make the choice to have your lord’s position altered somewhat. Sorry, your employer. Better yet, your master, you little fowl.”

There was a sudden, bright ring of steel. Stare saw the glint of light as Eirik took a step forwards, the sword now bare in his hand. Shoving his way partly in front of her he hissed darkly at a wide-eyed Gravelle. He opened his mouth to speak.

“I have a solution,” Stare said quickly, suspecting exactly what the guard was about to say. Eirik paused and looked over at her. She slowly stepped around him, watching the young blonde beginning to shake, wide eyes on the naked blade.

Gravelle’s gaze flicked over to her, brows raised. She took this as an invitation to go on. Stare looked at Eirik, who curled his lip distastefully but began to lower the sword.

“Until a more suitable arrangement can be made,” Stare spoke to the Brother. For instance, as soon as Vitruvion returned, “Your new guest will be able to stay within the apartments here.”

She had no idea if it would work, and even if it was what Vitruvion would want, but it would give her the chance to keep a close eye on this wide-eyed fresh-faced girl who had been condemned to this hell through no fault of her own.

“Might I suggest, miss,” Eirik said low, with a growling undertone, “That Lord Gravelle will not be permitted to entertain her here, and he must pay for her upkeep. Food, guards and the like.”

“All costs will come from your own pocket, Lord Gravelle,” Stare agreed. “And I would suggest that you satisfy yourself with the six guests currently under your guidance.”

Gravelle curled his lip before he spat on the floor just in front of Stare's feet. Eirik darted forwards, immediately horrified - and Stare was honestly caught off guard, surprised at that. She was even more surprised when the guard swung up his sword to Gravelle's neck, stopping the blade inches from his throat.

“Lady Tsukaka is Lord Elssmith's chosen steward and representative. She is to be respected, you ugly, insufferable-”

“Lord Gravelle,” Stare said quickly and tightly, seeing panic rise in the young woman's face and feeling her own heart beginning to race. She fought back hard not to cause Gravelle pain - though the man had been subject to her powers before. “You may leave your guest here to make arrangements. I will send word when she has been installed and where you might collect her from for your … entertainment.”

Her voice trailed off as her breathing began to grow more erratic, each word coming from her beak more painful than the last. Entertainment. Torture. Rape. What a horrible life awaited this blonde human who had likely done nothing wrong to have the fate.

Stare looked away from them all, fearful that her emotions would become a weapon. “Eirik?” she asked, wondering if he would do as she wished.

The guard grunted and lowered his sword but remained where he was, between Gravelle and Stare. The lord scowled, but seemed to understand what little power he had here. Dropping the end of the rope he had he spat once more before twisting sharply on his heel. He exited, gripping the door and then throwing it open so hard it banged on its hinges when he left.

Slam.

[Stare]

There was a moment of silence. Only unsteady breathing could be heard. Then-

“Miss Stare, I will have to recommend to Lieutenant Zulon that I alone am not sufficient.”

“Sufficient for what?” Stare asked him, still trying to control herself, dragging breaths in and out and still not able to trust herself. Or her eyes.

“Sufficient to do what Sir Elssmith commanded. Keeping you safe.”

“I can do that well myself, and Vitruvion knows that,” Stare grumbled, flexing her hand around the hilt of her dagger. But she dragged in a final lungful anyway and lifted her eyes to finally look at their companion.

The young blonde shivered, eyes massive and staring, with her bound hands held against her small breasts. She let out a whimper, before small droplets began to fall from her eyes.

“Th-thank you,” she mumbled through tears. “He - he did things to me …”

“I haven't saved you from that,” Stare said firmly. “Whatever you have heard about me, I can't, no matter how much I want to.”

Eirik gave her a sideways look which she ignored as the blonde girl took in her words. For a moment more she sniffed before she answered.

“But they say you - that, that you …”

“That I lived here for five months? Yes I did,” she grunted. “Now I work for Vitruvion in other ways. Apparently right now,” she didn't hide the disgust in her voice, “that means keeping this hellhole going for him.” She glanced over to Eirik, seeing him standing there, studying her. Her brow rose. “What?”

“Nothing, Miss,” he said carefully, “but I would say you are not the best at making friends.”

“You're welcome,” Stare replied, straightening as the guard arched an eyebrow but twisted away. He angled towards the door, where she knew more guards likely waited, and until recently however many had been skulking for Gravelle. Now Eirik was moving away too, leaving Stare alone to face back to the girl.

Who was beginning to tear up again, still bound hands around her face.

“So you will not help me escape?” she whimpered. “But I cannot stay here, I have my family, my fiancé, my-”

Fiancé. At her age. That made Stare twitch with discomfort. “What's your name?” she asked quietly, eyes impatiently on the blonde.
The girl looked slightly taken aback. “Well, it's Galina, but they all keep calling me 'Lament.’”

Stare looked at Lament and breathed in slowly. She gave her a once over and a nod.
“A pleasure to meet you, Lament. I am Stare, as I am sure everyone has told you.”

Lament swallowed a little and quietly nodded her head, sniffing once. Stare felt her heart pound with empathy for this creature, but knew she could do very little when it came down to it. What would Vitruvion allow her do do? To what extent would be let her go?

Eventually she sighed, the door closing behind Eirik symbolising peace for a moment. “I know it is difficult here, Lament,” she said firmly but quietly. “But I cannot help you aside from try to keep you safer. The best way to do that, while my own …” she paused to think about what to call the relationship between her and Vitruvion while the girl's huge eyes were resting on her. “Employer, because he does actually pay me. Master,” she let the word slip from the sides of her beak, “because he still is. While Vitruvion is away.”

“Some of them call you 'traitor’,” Lament whispered, “That you have betrayed us all.”

Stare breathed in slowly. “I had a choice. To stay as I was, with little purpose, being all but a project for him to work on my magic - or to be useful. To have a life. Someone that he trusts.”

“And does he trust you?”

The kenku glanced down to the cuff on her wrist, that bound her mind to his without her choice. She thought of how he had made her immortal so that he could keep hey forever by his side, and the way he was ordering his guards to keep by her side, to keep her safe. She thought of how she belonged to him now, body and soul, of how he had given her more responsibility than she could ever imagine. She thought of where he was now, and their joint fight against their brothers. She thought of how he held her when he slept, sharing a room like he had never done with anyone else. And she thought of now, how he had left her his empire, his world, with the knowledge that she would hold it as he wanted. She thought of how she would hold it for years of he needed, until darkness covered the world entirely.

She found herself sighing, and meeting Lament with the same intense gaze. “He does, at least I believe he does. But you should also know that I trust him.”

[Stare]

“You trust a man who - who did things like that to you?” Her eyes were huge with disbelief.

“I trust him now. You can take that back to your friends you have made. Now,” she pulled out her dagger and gestured at the girl's bound hands with the tip. “By doing this I am not taking responsibility for you should you choose to run at any point. I should note, I tried it once. I failed miserably.”

Indeed, she had spent two long weeks in a cage. So many jokes had been made about birds in cages in that time it had become dull. Of yesterday. Old. Just why she was telling Lament all of this, Stare was uncertain, but if there was the small chance that she could make the girl's life easier then it was worth it.

Lament sniffed a little, clearly disappointed in what she had hoped Stare could give her. Yet, she extended her wrists, holding them carefully out as the kenku bent forwards. A quick slice of her mythril dagger and the bonds fell to the floor, along with the rope they had attached to. Stare took a step back, huffing out a breath and keeping her eyes steady on Lament’s.

“My advice is to make yourself indispensable to Gravelle. Make him want to come to you, please him. If you do that, then power will be next, freedoms and a better life. As good as it's going to get here anyway.” She shoved the knife back in her belt and looked over as the rattling of hinges signalled the opening of the door. Eirik stepped in, alongside a surprising figure at his side - a tall, elegant androgynous figure who seemed to be a olive-skinned elf.

“Miss Stare, this is Jordain. They are here to assist in your guard.”

Stare rolled her eyes slightly, noticing that Jordain was possibly the largest, most impressive being she had ever seen for some time - trust Zulon not to provide the mightiest soldier.

“Fine,” she nodded at Jordain.

The tall, strong elf grinned a little as Eirik smiled briefly before he began to head towards Lament. As he did the young woman suddenly spoke again.

“Just tell me why. Why you do this, for him, after all you went through. All the pain, the suffering. Why? Why would you do that to yourself?”

Stare turned, her eyes focusing on the blonde. In her mind she screamed, 'because he is my god,’ and 'because I have no other life.’ That or, 'he legitimately owns me,’ or 'what would you have done …’ But none of them fit. Not to the extent that would explain why to Lament.

So she was silent for a moment, as she breathed in deep, the guards who obeyed her commands now, though within the frames of their ultimate master, pausing at her periphery. And she tightened a hand around her left wrist, where the cuff that bound her mind to Vitruvion's lay, that bond that she had gotten so used to, had even admitted the use of.

“You don't know everything about him,” Stare said quietly, “And nor do you know everything about me. Yes I've never had any other choice in whom I serve but … I've chosen to see the good in him. To find it. Maybe you should do the same with yourself.” Though Stare doubted there was any good in Gravelle to find.

Lament threw a deep look of hatred at the kenku. Stare turned away from her, knowing that Lament had not been persuaded to consider her less of a traitor. But that was it, that was what she had to deal with her life. Slowly she breathed in and just murmured, “Sorry,” as Eirik gestured for Lament to follow him.

[Stare]

-*-*-*-*-

The days passed as bitterly as they could do, Stare hating each one worst than the last. It was not helped that Lament seemed to be a gossip and spread what had transpired between her and Stare within a matter of hours of settling into the small room that Stare could provide. She seemed determined to complain, and despite the fact she had appeared as a crying young girl she had tenacity. Yet still Stare kept her as safe as possible, and in fact made Blaze and Sable as comfortable as she could get away with, without angering Vitruvion too much, or making Zulon too exhausted with her.

A week past, and there was little to no news from Vitruvion. Only a brief discussion of him asking if there were any major issues, and them him avoiding talking about Ventrua. Eventually he had shouted at Stare, to the point that her ears had physically rung. From that day she had made herself as busy as possible, spending as much time as she could outside of the Hollow, though now wth a party of three guards, including a gruff dwarf called Granit.

It was a gentle day later, and Stare was riding her chocobo steed, Sen, who was a great, black, flightless bird. She had just spent the last three hours in communion with a burly man who was the security at the offices Vitruvion owned and hired out. Apparently he had issues with the demands of the job, and wanted either a pay rise or a colleague. The meeting had not needed to last so long but Stare was rapidly running out of reasons to spend all day above ground. Quite desperately she tried to stay out for as long as she could each day.

Beside her Jordain rode on their steed - a sleek black horse by the name of Whistle. They kept throwing Stare various glances, from smiles to intrigue. The kenku tried to ignore them for a while, before grunting.

“What?”

“Nothing, miss,” Jordain replied. “I have just heard, not seen.”

“Never seen me?” Stare rose her brow a little. “Are you knew then?”

Jordain nodded slightly, and used a hand to brush back a stray hair from their face. “In a way. I used to serve under Sir Elssmith in the army.”

Stare suddenly was stunned. Never before had she been faced with someone who knew Vitruvion before he founded the Hollow - that was, aside from his sister Ventrua and Raevin, who had been serving the god for nearing fifty years apparently.

“Do you know Raevin then?” she asked, not masking the shock in her voice.

Jordain shrugged a little. “You could say so. We were different platoons but connected.”

“You rode a Pegasus?” Stare asked, referring to the fact Vitruvion had ridden one, whom he had called Venesse.

The tall elf laughed slightly and touched the hilt of their sword, that Stare only now saw was particularly large. “No,” Jordain said, “But I was part of the Tel Celebarrna, the standing army portion of the garrison.”

Stare slowly nodded, her eyes not hiding the wonder. “On the city of Tor Elythis, the island colony.”

“If you can call it a colony,” Jordain smiled, their lips curving into something sweet, “It is self sufficient, which I believe suited a man like Sir Elssmith with his ancestry and pride, but it is still part of Raiaera.”

Ancestry and pride. The kenku found herself looking away, slowly filling her lungs with air. She had not expected to meet anyone who knew Vitruvion from beyond that time aside from Raevin and Ventrua, especially one who talked of him with such pride. Why Jordain would want to then work for him in a pit of horror like the Hollow was beyond Stare but then, she had never asked the question even of Zulon. Each person she knew had their own reasons, she her own. Maybe the Hollow had started out something different, and had gotten darker the more Vitruvion lost hope.

[Stare]

Elsewhere.

“You really have lost hope,” the god Galatirion frowned, resplendent in his silken finery. At his feet a young priest kneeled, head bowed and raising up a silver platter, upon which was dressed the fattest, roundest grapes.

Across the small room, slumped somewhat into a throne-like chair the white haired being known as Vitruvion glared back. Like Galatirion he was beautiful, gorgeous and had an attractive scent around him, but unlike Galatirion he was dirty, dissatisfied, and looking exhausted.

“I have not 'lost hope,’ as you put it,” Vitruvion snapped at the Raiaeran god of immortality. “I've never had much in the first place, little thanks to you, but I've not 'lost hope.’”

“You are here, in my temple, moping in my court, eating my food, resting on my chair, using my subjects and asking for my help.” The god plucked a grape and pushed it between his lips. Taking a small bite he chewed, then swallowed as Vitruvion stared at him, dull eyed and glaring, before he finished. “You should really be grateful.”

Vitruvion growled at him. “Grateful? To you? One of the bastards who reduced down my essence into this pathetic meat sack?” He looked down at the priest who held up the silver platter, who had been there kneeling for over an hour now in the exact same position. “Shouldn't you give him a rest?”

Galatirion paused for a moment, looking confused. Brow furrowed he looked around. “What do you mean? Who? What?”

“Him!” Vitruvion waved an irritated hand at the priest. “You know, him.”

It took a moment for the god of immortality to understand. He leant back to peer around what he could see - the grapes and silver chair - and blink at the still but swallowing being, who had his eyes tightly screwed closed.

“Oh. Him. No,” dismissively Galatirion waved the point aside. “He is one of mine. He knows his job. He will be fine.”

The look on Vitruvion's face was one of sudden anger. “You cannot treat one of them like that,” he hissed, pissed off. “They serve you, they are not your slave.”

“Says the man who tortures and rapes young women,” Galatirion snapped back. Vitruvion stared like he was mad. “And you know - enslaved that little pet of yours.”

Slowly Vitruvion sat forwards, tension building through his body as his face became a twist of fury. “Never tortured. Raped, yes, I will admit to that. Not like you have not done such. As to Stare,” his hand became a rolled fist with a single long finger. “You fucking keep her out if this. Everything I have done, however wrong is to keep her at my side, to protect her from the likes of you lot who forgets why we are what we are. I had to re-remember that fact, relearn it all, no thanks to you bastards, and it took a bloody bird to do it.”

Galatirion paused as he surveyed the god sitting forwards now in the seat, poised at the edge of it, eyes full of passion. Leaning over he plucked another grape as he curled his lip. “Boy, I have always tried to remind you what gods are here for. I even rejoiced when you began that little project of an empire you call the Hollow, even if I did not entirely agree with everything you did - do there. I thought, here Vitruvion is, looking to make his mark on the world, but thirty years later what do we have now.” He rolled the grape between his fingers. “A pathetic grump of a creature who has lost his pride. Who is unable to keep a small half god away from those who serve him, who comes here begging for me to help him find his half-sister. You're back to how you were when you first came here, Vitruvion; less naïve, certainly but still too curious, too hopeless, too miserable. Too obsessed with his own subjects - sorry, subject, and become weak. So weak that you let your - your feelings for her cloud your judgement. I was proud of you,” he looked back at him with distaste. “Now I am sick of you.”

A silence passed between them. Vitruvion found himself reaching and clutching for his cane. He held it, tight in his hands, fingers curled around the pommel of the owl like he was going to rip it in twain. Slowly he breathed, but it was ragged breath as he fought the temptation not to get up and fight this disgusting god before him. A man who willed a mortal to sit there for hours, only to be a piece of furniture. Oh yes, Vitruvion himself was guilty of crimes similar. Images of Stare bound like nothing more than a package still burned in his mind, only to satisfy his lust. Of course, as the weeks had passed she had become more willing, and the sexual encounters had become more easier. It was so much so that he had waited until the newest girl, Sable, was ready. His heart beat heavily when he thought about his crimes, and what he might pay for them, were he in a more moral society. But this was it; he was a god, in Raiaera, where behind the curtain of beauty this thing was a commonality every day. He was just another dark wheel in the machine, desperately holding onto the few things that mattered to him most.

Raevin, who was still recovering from his demonic attack. Ventrua, who had disappeared, and whom he had come to this temple for to try to find some news. Stare, whom he refused to admit he had become obsessed by, despite still legally owning her, despite making her immortal so she could live with him into eternity, despite telling her, to her face, that he would never let her go. Stare, whom Galatirion had mentioned 'feelings’ for …

Feelings. “It was a mistake coming here,” Vitruvion said slowly, standing. “I let you get into my head once, let your way of life, my father's way of being a god rule me. I am not blaming you for the crimes I have committed, but you are wrong. I am not weak. I am not pathetic. I know exactly what I want, and that is still to rule, to be a god, but with those who respect me. Not fear me.” He gestured angrily at the priest. “That, is something I would never do. Now I came here to see if you had heard of my sister, clearly you haven't, so I will move on. But know this, Galatirion …”

He drew himself up to his full height, taking step forwards. “My kingdom will be greater than yours.”